


Chosen King's Familiar

by ScribeOfRhapsody



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Ardyn is a jerk, F/M, Ifrit didn't sign up for this babysitting crap, Ignis is Ifrit, Ignis is salty at humans but Noct will fix that, Ignis is so done, Infernian!Ignis, Prompto is a delight, as usual, but lots of humor too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeOfRhapsody/pseuds/ScribeOfRhapsody
Summary: “My love… I ask that you watch over the boy.”Shiva found their solutions. Hers was the girl. His was the boy.Ifrit would be at the Chosen's side until he fulfilled his calling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know the Infernian!Ignis idea has been done more than a few times, but I wanted to try it myself. The plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. lol

He’d loved the people of Eos once.

And then things had changed, and that love died, turned to ash by his own flames as he battled against those he’d once admired and helped. His rage blazed on for years, putting him at odds against even his own. Fouls. They were mistakenly enamored – just as he had once been. Even his beloved.

His anger clung to him, stewing for almost two millennia before receding. Receding. Not vanishing. It was merely pushed from his mind’s forefront as he and Shiva rekindled their former relationship.

It was almost humorous. She’d once been against those smaller beings while he’d vouched for them. Time had reversed those standpoints. He wanted to take back every word he’d ever spoken to her that cast them in the light she now saw them in, but wanted _her_ more. Her presence. Her love. The mortals weren’t worth fighting with her over. 

And so they stayed together while the other four slept. She kept an eye on the matters of the mortals. He did not.

Not until he was duped by the eldest Caelum – brought to his very knees and forced into servitude, despite Shiva’s attempt to come to his aid.

He might have enjoyed setting the Crown City ablaze another time, but not when his every action was due to the beck and call of the Accursed.

Only Bahumut’s timely intervention saved the Chosen’s father from death that day before the Chosen had even come to be.

Ifrit was thankful to the Chosen for one reason – the Accursed didn’t need Ifrit while he was waiting for the boy to be born and grow.

He was not free. Not truly. One call from the Accursed and he would be powerless to stop himself. But the absence of orders left him able to return to Shiva.

They were both damaged. He with the very Scourge he’d caused and she from her attempt to save him from the Imperial forces.

Something had to be done.

Shiva found their solutions. Hers was the girl. The latest Oracle. She was to be the one to aid the Chosen King.

“I will guide her.”

“Then do so.”

Human lifespans were a blink. But so much would happen within this one.

“The boy… he will need guidance as well.”

“The Chosen? Then guide him as well, if you must, once he arrives.” The Chosen had yet to be born, but the time would come soon.

He should have known what was coming. She didn’t plead, but the look she gave him then told him she wanted something from him. _Needed_ something from him.

“My love… I ask that _you_ watch over the boy.”

He didn’t want to. Walking among the mortals and watching over one was the last thing he wanted to do. But this was his only chance at freedom – at mending his and his beloved’s wounds. His only chance of resting once more.

“And if the Accursed takes issue with my guidance and uses me against the Chosen?”

“You must make certain he does not know.”

* * *

It was insulting. Degrading.

While his beloved had managed to find a place at the Oracle’s side in a form that was respectable, at least, Ifrit had no desire to have the people surrounding the Chosen thinking him a messenger – or worse, realizing who he truly was. He couldn’t draw attention that the Accursed would notice.

No, none of them would know who he was. None of them would even know he wasn’t one of their own.

It wasn’t difficult to claim the role of the Chosen’s Advisor. Humiliating to take such a form, yes, but that small, weak form had done the trick. None of the young mortal candidates could have hoped to be more clever than him. His overly keen mind and bespectacled childish face were even considered adorable by the mortals. It was a challenge not to incinerate every single one of them that bent over or crouched down to speak to him. Instead he just gave them courteous replies and inwardly laughed at his own private joke every time he had to introduce himself.

Ignis Scientia. _Fire. Knowledge._ What a laugh indeed. His true identity was right in front of them, and yet they were too dense to even suspect.

And then the day came. The day he was to meet the Chosen.

The way the boy looked at him was different. Shy. Innocent. His smile was one of a pure untainted joy as he grasped Ifrit’s hand with both of his own. Ifrit finally understood what all the mortals felt when they looked at him in this form – the boy was adorable. And for the first time in a very long while… Ifrit wasn’t irritated by a mortal’s mere existence.

* * *

The Chosen was an annoying mortal that was only currently tolerable because he was too young to have developed all the traits that made humans so unbearable. Ifrit was going to tire of him very soon, but he was going to put up with it and guide the whelp into saving mankind, and, more importantly, _taking down the Accursed so Ifrit would be free again. _

That was what Ifrit repeated to himself as he watched the small Chosen totter around: it was only the matter of time before the boy was just like all the rest. He was currently manageable, yes, but that was all. Not as much of hindrance as anticipated, but Ifrit didn’t actually care about the boy.

And it took until Noct was eight for that lie he’d been feeding himself to completely fall to pieces.

Because he wasn’t just _the Chosen_ or _the boy_ – he was _Noct_. He had been _Noct_ for some while, and it had taken the small mortal’s near death at the hands of a daemon for that to truly click in the Infernian’s mind.

Noct had taken a trip to catch some fireflies. Nothing Ifrit cared to witness. Hardly dangerous.

And it was his error – his dismissiveness – that resulted in him clinging to Noct’s hand as his fragile little heart fought to keep beating while he lied unresponsive in the Citadel medical wing.

_Never again,_ Ifrit vowed as he finally accepted that the tiny human had reawakened a love for humanity within him that he thought he’d lost. Never again would Noct face this sort of harm before his ascension.

He cared about _one _human, and that human would not fall before his time.

* * *

He cared about two humans.

It was startling to notice. Unlike with Noct, there was no life threatening event that triggered the realization.

It had been a day like any other in his slow human life. Meetings. Checking up on Noct. Training.

Training had been fun that day. Despite having to hold back his power, Ifrit enjoyed locking blades in fake combat. He always won, of course, but Gladio was a challenging opponent when Ifrit restricted himself to his human body’s limitations and switched over to daggers or a lance instead of the sword he’d been wielding for uncounted millennia.

Gladio had asked him afterwards about a cake for his sister, and of course Ifrit had agreed. If there was one thing he loved about living as a mortal, it was the little hobby of cooking that he’d picked up.

And then Gladio had made a comment. A nothing comment. Just words in passing as he clapped Ifrit on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Iggy. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

The clap struck a feeling of fondness within him, and he found himself replying with, “Nor I without you. Whoever else could I complain to about Noct not eating his vegetables?”

And that was it. As Gladio headed out the door and his laughter echoed around the room, Ifrit realized that he had every intention of protecting the King’s Shield as much as the King.

More sentiment for the mortals. Disgusting. Shiva was never going to let him hear the end of him growing fond of mortals again.

Well, it was certainly not mortals in general, at least.

Only two.

* * *

And then there were three.

If Astrals were capable of getting whiplash, Ifrit would have had it.

Gladio had been another case of him tolerating a human before realizing he cared, but Prompto…

Quite frankly, Ifrit had wanted to set the boy aflame when Noct first introduced him. He was obnoxiously loud, hyperactive, and irritatingly keen on physical contact. Not to mention his relation to that wretched human that had freed the Accursed and coaxed him into revenge in the first place. Ifrit just had to grit his teeth and pretend to be civil, because he saw how Noct livened up whenever the blond was around.

How that had morphed into fondness was beyond him.

After a couple of months of being close to tripping the boy into traffic and hoping no one noticed, there had been an incident.

Humans were cruel. No wonder they hadn’t had a problem betraying Ifrit when those who hadn’t even reached adulthood were harming their own.

“Who the hell was it, Prompto? I swear – they’ll be expelled by tomorrow morning!”

Noct’s rage was almost as hot as Ifrit’s own. One look at the black eye Prompto was sporting, and Noct, Gladio, and Ifrit all were ready to personally march to town to that school and see how much those bullies would like a more fair fight.

…Not that a few teenagers facing an Astral was really fair, but that didn’t matter because Prompto refused to tell them anyway.

For the first time, Ifrit saw through the boy’s fake smiles and laughter, he didn’t ever want to see _any _of Prompto’s smiles marred by purple on his face ever again.

Oh well… what was one more to his list of protected?

Three was a good number. Their group felt… complete.


	2. Chapter 2

Noct’s true journey began the day the four of them left Insomnia.

A journey of slaying pathetic beasts, searching for an incompetent “hunter,” and rock collecting.

What joys.

But those inane tasks were certainly preferable to what came next.

It took every single shred of Ifrit’s self-control not to light the entire Galdin pier on fire when Ardyn strutted up to them. The molten heat of his blood remained only just contained beneath his false human shell. If only he could keep the wretch _dead._ But no, he couldn’t, and he had to keep his identity hidden. If Ardyn so much as suspected he was more than the Prince’s Advisor, his presence would be the exact opposite of protection for the future King.

And so Ifrit was forced to bite his tongue.

Even when he knew for a fact that Ardyn was more than a little to blame for Regis’ death, which they found out about the next day.

Ifrit felt… _something _at that news. Regis hadn’t won him over like Noct, Gladio, and Prompto, but the King had earned Ifrit’s respect. He wasn’t as foolish as so many mortals. Ifrit might have even gone so far as to say he liked the man.

Which is why he was especially irritated at the Accursed when he again decided to act as a _helping hand_.

The swine – murdering the boy’s father and then parading around like the weird uncle of the family that everyone tried to ignore existed. Which was… exactly what he was. Where had that analogy even come from? Damn Prompto’s vocabulary, rubbing off on him…

But Ifrit still had to stay silent. The most he could do was drop comments about not trusting Ardyn one bit – something they all agreed on at least. They just didn’t know what to do about it since they needed into the Disc.

What Ifrit wouldn’t give to be able to whisk them all there and wave to Ardyn as they disappeared.

Instead, Ardyn dropped them at the “door” and went off to enslave someone else or something.

That did not leave Ifrit in a good mood. Noct and Gladio nearly falling off a cliff due to Titan’s incompetence even less so. Honestly, was he trying to kill their Chosen before he even had a chance to rise as King?

And now he was stuck with Prompto, trying to find a way down to the others. Would that Prompto had fallen too, but now Ifrit had to walk the whole way because the boy was hot on his heels and likely to stumble into lava if left alone.

…Which Ifrit had thought of as an exaggeration, but then Titan decided to forget about his size again or something and the next quake_ did _send the blond King of Accidents staggering straight for patch of fiery ground.

Ifrit moved swiftly, yanking the boy back just in time.

…Only for a rock above them to break and fall. Ifrit shoved the boy, falling back himself just in time to avoid the headache it would have given him and the death it would have given Prompto.

How could one day in the mortal realm feel so damned long?

Ifrit dusted off the sleeve of his jacket, scowling. He was _this _close to marching down there and having a word with his fellow Astral. Lost the war, he might have, but they all shared a common goal now, and Titan was endangering that with his careless behavior.

“Iggy!”

Prompto’s voice was so horrified that it actually startled Ifrit. That sounded like more than the boy’s usual overreacting. Probably thought he’d been crushed by the rock or something.

“Worry not, Prompto. I’m still in one piece.”

The dust between them started to clear, but that didn’t seem to be comforting Prompto. If anything he looked even more horrified.

“D-dude…” Prompto pointed, hand shaky.

Ifrit glanced down at his feet.

…Blood hell. It appeared he was standing in lava.

* * *

Ifrit assumed that him having to explain to Prompto of all people who he was would be a disaster.

For once in his long life, Ifrit was delighted to be wrong. Sharing his secret with Prompto was the best mistake he’d ever made.

The amount of relief and… _joy_ that instantly came from the matter was unbelievable.

Prompto wasn’t like any of the men or women of Solheim – he didn’t treat Ifrit with more reverence than prior to knowing his true identity, but neither was he scared or ready to pick up a pitchfork. The difference was a small matter of _insatiable_ curiosity and picture begging.

Ifrit had become_ the coolest thing ever, dude, come on, just one picture!_

Of course, Ifrit couldn’t grant him evidence that could be stumbled upon. He could, however, deal with the questions. And deal with them he did.

Prompto developed a habit of staying up with him under the pretense of helping out with the supper dishes, and the two talked long into the night.

For how much time seemed to fly by to Ifrit, he found himself feeling as though his secret had become his whole life. To be able to speak without the discretion was fantastic, especially with Prompto vibrating with glee about every snippet of knowledge shared with him.

And – perhaps the biggest surprise of all – Prompto… was not actually terrible at keeping the secret. Ifrit supposed it was all that practice from keeping what he knew about his own origins hidden. Weeks passed, and the most Prompto had done around the other was wag his eyebrows at Ignis whenever Shiva was brought up.

…Now telling Prompto about_ that_ aspect of his life _might_ have been something Ifrit_ did _regret.

* * *

“Yo, Iggyfrit.” Prompto thwacked Ifrit lightly on the shoulder with his drying towel before picked up his first dish for the night. It had been a long day of hunting for Ramuh’s runestones, and Ifrit had been looking forward to their nightly discussion.

He arched an eyebrow at Prompto. The boy had only just learned of Ifrit’s true identity a few days ago, but it appeared he was already mentally adjusted to the situation enough to come up with a new nickname for him.

“Iggyfrit?” Ifrit repeated, deadpan.

Prompto shrugged. “Feels weird calling you Ignis now that I know it’s not your real name, but I’m soooo not ready for full on_ Ifrit the Infernian_ yet. Compromise?”

His once regal and feared name, reduced to something that sounded like an off-brand pudding mix…

Ifrit sighed. Only Prompto. _Only_ Prompto could get away with these things without Ifrit feeling the urge to incinerate him. “Comprise it is, so long as Noct and Gladio aren’t in the vicinity.”

Prompto grimaced, taking the next dish from Ifrit as he handed it over. “Not pushing, dude, but I feel kinda bad knowing when they don’t.”

Ifrit hummed, scrubbing at the dried on vegetable remnants of what _had_ to be Noct’s plate. “It’s no slight to them. You still wouldn’t know either if Titan hadn’t been romping about carelessly, but he always was a bit of a klutz.”

Prompto sorted. “Yep… still not used to you talking about the other Arstrals like derpy coworkers.”

Ifrit snorted._ Arstrals._ Well, given the comments he’d been tossing about, he wasn’t surprised Prompto had come up with a nickname for the others too. Ifrit only wished he’d thought of it first. He was keeping that one. Prompto was lucky Ramuh wasn’t in the habit of striking people down these days.

“Not all five of them are quite that intolerable,” Ifrit said wistfully.

Yes, he was still bitter from the war, but his time among the humans had made him realize something: he _missed _the relationships he’d once had with his own kind. The connection he now shared with Noct and Gladio and Prompto… It jarred some unexpected feelings of longing within him.

The mortals – these particular mortals – were more similar to them than he would have deemed possible.

Gladio, sturdy and strict, but with a true heart… like Titan had been. Prompto, filled with mirth and kindness, but with an underlying edge of danger and discipline… like Ramuh had been. And Noct… laid back and seemingly careless until his leadership was needed… as Bahumut had been.

Before the war… they had been united. Now they were fractured.

“So like… did it used to be just the six chilling in Astral world, or, like, did you have the Messengers for company? Like Gentenia? Were you guys friends with her always?”

Ah… Ifrit wondered if Prompto might bring her up. “Yes, and no. Gentiana was with us, but there is even more to her than meets the eye.”

Prompto’s eyebrows shot up. “More than being a Messenger? Like what?”

Ifrit finished the next dish, handing it off. “She’s Shiva.”

Prompto’s face fell into an exact imitation of the shocked emoji he was fond of sending. “Whoa! Wha… Wait! But Noct said she hangs out with Lady Luna! Does that mean she’s like… Lady Luna’s _you?_”

Ifrit really needed to stop underestimating this boy. He wasn’t as spacey as most assumed. “Exactly, actually. Us protecting the two of them was originally her idea.”

“And she got you in on it! Ha! Awesome!” Prompto bounced on his toes. “That’s cool. Guess you’re tighter with her than Titan and the others, huh?”

Ifrit hesitated, clearing his throat. “Very much so, yes.”

Prompto’s eyes went even wider. “Wait, are you to like a thing? Do you guys do that? Do Astrals date?”

“Not in the same sense you lot do, but she and I are… involved,” Ifrit explained. “I believe the closest comparison you have would be that of a marriage.”

“_What?_” Prompto shrieked.

“Shhhh!” Ifrit hissed, jerking his chin towards the tent.

Prompto lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “_Dude_. You’re _married? _That’s so sweet! How long?”

Ifrit shrugged. “Post two thousand years at this point. I’ll have to properly introduce you at some point.”

“Yeah, you _better._”

Had he known Prompto was going to start winking at him, wagging his eyebrows, and even texting him pages of kissing faces with every mention of Gentaina’s name, Ifrit might have been less inclined to share that information.


	3. Chapter 3

Ifrit was used to time passing quickly among the humans, but he had never thought things could go so drastically wrong in such a short span of time as they did in Altissia.

He could have done more. He could have saved Lunafreya. He could have gotten to the altar faster – left the Oracle’s brother behind in an instant and appeared right where he needed to.

But he hadn’t. He’d taken a human route there, grumbling to himself about what a bitch Leviathan was. He’d never gotten on with her, even before the war.

He’d not wanted to chance giving away his identity to someone less understanding than Prompto, or, at worst, Ardyn. He’d been sure that Noct and Lunafreya would be safe because of Shiva. She would be there.

But she wasn’t. Ifrit didn’t know why, but she hadn’t been there as he expected. By the time he and Raves arrived at the altar, Lunafreya had passed.

How? Why hadn’t Shiva saved her? She adored Lunafreya. Yes, she was fated to die as much as the Chosen, but she could have continued on for a while yet before her health completely failed. She could have seen Noct again, at least.

Oh, Noct… This would destroy him, Ifrit lamented as he halfheartedly battled Ravus. The man had no chance of winning. Better for him to take his rage out in a fight than on Noct.

But then another problem arose.

Ardyn. Ifrit went down easily as the trooper swarmed him. Ardyn _could not know._

And so Ifrit put up a show of struggling against the MTs holding him down.

“Why not end it all right here?”

Ifrit might have rolled his eyes if there wasn’t a small part of him actually worried that Ardyn might change his mind and actually take his revenge this moment.

Time for a calculated intervention.

“You and I both know that to be an empty threat!” Ifrit growled, his cheek pressed into the cold and wet ground. He hated cold and wet. “You need him to end your curse!”

Ardyn froze, his dagger still raised. He cocked his head, hitting Ignis with a raised eyebrow look. “Well, now aren’t you informed…”

Ifrit gritted his teeth. “Did you think Regis would send his son away with no one to explain the truth of his fate to him?” Yes… yes he would. He’d thought he had.

“Hmph…” Ardyn pouted, dropped his hand with the dagger to rest on his knee. “Well, this is no fun at all, then.” He sighed, looking rather put out. “I supposed my handiwork here is done, then.”

Ifrit honestly hadn’t expected his plan to work so well that Ardyn would just leave, but that was exactly what he did.

And he was right. His work was done. Lunafreya’s death would be the exact push Noct needed in the long run.

After all, it was so much easier to except one’s own death when there was less to live for.

Damn the Accursed. Damn his cretin of a betraying brother. Damn the traitors of Solheim.

…Damn him. Had he not brought the Scourge in the first place… No, that wasn’t the correct line of thought. Had the Scourge not come, history would have unfolded entirely differently. Noct wouldn’t even exist in the first place.

But he did. And the Scourge that Ifrit caused did. And Noct was going to have to die to correct it.

Fate was bloody cruel.

* * *

By the time they reached Cartanica, Ifrit was at his wit’s end. He still had heard nothing from Shiva, and the emotions his human body were feeling about that and Noct’s current dismay were wreaking havoc on his human psyche.

By the other Five, he needed to be in his natural form again. No wonder he’d become such a sap for these particular humans. No wonder humans were such a mess in general. How did they cope with this their whole lives?

“The map clearly states that we need go this direction. How do you expect to lead a country when you cannot efficiently lead a group of five with a simple map?”

…He should have recommended to Noct that they tell the High Commander to take his own bloody train to Gralea while the four of them tackled the tomb in Cartanica. But no… the five of them were stuck with each other’s company

Ifrit growled under his breath, glaring at the stir fry he was cooking. Currently, Prompto was the only human being in existence that he _didn’t_ want to set aflame.

Noctis was moping – which was understandable but annoying – and Gladio and Ravus’ aggressive and petty comments were getting more and more grating the longer then were here. Not to mention they were in a bloody swamp.

Damp and cold. Again. Even Altissia had had dry places to walk. Here was just _moist_ everywhere.

And yet, none of that was even the worst part.

“Hey… dude, are you okay?” Prompto wondered, being thoughtful and marvelous and mostly _quiet_ as he helped Ifrit prepare dinner.

“_Fine,_” Ifrit returned testily, trying to ignore Gladio and Ravus pissing contest behind them.

“…Still nothing from Shiva?”

The human nausea that came with worry ate at Ifrit’s gut further. “…No.”

Where _was_ she? Had Ardyn… gotten to her too? No… he couldn’t have… Ifrit was resigned to what it would take to free himself from Ardyn, but for that fate to befall Shiva as well…

He couldn’t accept that. He _wouldn’t._

* * *

The day was the day that had been coming for a very long time.

The second time Ifrit reached the end of his rope in terms of dealing with humanity’s shit.

He’d tried to walk ahead and tune them all out. It did not work.

“…then be quicker about it! We need be out of here by nightfall!”

Ifrit was covered in swamp water.

“Oh, really? You don’t say! You know, I’d actually been thinking that hanging around to fight daemons in a swamp was a great idea!”

Ifrit’s wet sock was crawling up under his heel.

“Well maybe if we all walked more and talked less, we could avoid that!”

Where. Was. Shiva?

“Oh, don’t even! You’ve been on my ass just as much him!”

He was going. To kill them all.

“Yeah, to keep moving–”

“_Will the lot of you zip your inane prattling?_” Ifrit yelled, whipping around to glare at the men behind him. “_Is this truly the best the three oldest and most respected bloodlines in history Eos can offer?_”

“Uh, Iggy…” Prompto said, eyes wide.

The others had stopped dead and were staring at him. Good. He had their attention.

“_If those you’re currently mourning could see you now, they be ashamed!_”

“_Iggy…_” Prompto was making a cutting motion in front of his throat.

“_What is it going to take for the three of you to grow up and settle debates like responsible leaders? The whole world is depending on you!_”

Prompto sighed, dropped his hand and apparently giving up on whatever he’d been trying to communicate.

There others were still staring blankly.

“…What the _hell?_” Gladio finally said.

Ifrit refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “I’m sorry, was that too complicated for you to understand, Gladiolus?”

“Uh, considering it was all in, like, Astral language?” Prompto snorted, hands on his hips. “Yeah, kinda…”

…Bloody hell.

Ifrit went rigid. Had he just… “…I didn’t…”

“Oh, yeah, dude,” Prompto said brightly. “You sure did.”

* * *

“…don’t understand!” Noct swatted at a bug on his neck, tromping through the calf deep water noisily in an attempt to keep up with Ifrit as they all sought the exit to this terrible place. “We grew up together! How can you be a Messenger?”

This was the absolute last conversation Ifrit ever wanted to have. “I can adjust my appearance.” His kinship with Noct was genuine, and he didn’t want him thinking otherwise.

“Also, he’s noooot actually a Messenger,” Prompto added. “He’s kinda one of the head honchos.”

Ifrit wasn’t sure if he appreciated Prompto trying to break the tension or if he wanted him to stop.

Noct made noise. “So, how come Prompto knew the truth? _How long_ has Prompto known the truth? And what do you mean head honcho – like… like an actual Astral himself?”

“Oh, yeah. And not long. I kinda just… found out by accident when he stepped in lava.”

“Lava?” Ravus pieced it together first. “You’re the _Infernian?_”

Ifrit managed to get away with Prompto answering most of the questions – bless that boy – but once they were back to the station, settling into some sleeping quarters, Ifrit decided it was time.

“Noct… a moment?”

Noct was on his feet and following Ignis in less than a moment. He even managed to stay silent until they’d both taken a seat in the corner of the dining car and ordered their later meals.

Ifrit steepled his fingers atop the table. “I know you must have more questions – likely ones that you’d prefer not to ask in a group setting.”

Noct shook his head, arms cross and posture closed off as he leaned back against the seat on his side of the both. “…Honestly, I don’t know where to start. I-I don’t even know how to talk to you…”

Absolutely not. For all his bitterness towards humanity for not treating all of the Six with enough respect, Noct was never someone he wanted to receive that kind of praise from. “No differently than you always have. Noct, I admit that when Shiva first came up with this plan, I dreaded it. I had no desire to spend years protecting a mortal. But you won me over. Not your position as future King. Not your status as the Chosen. _You._”

“That’s… nice to hear, I guess.” Noct sighed, still looking down. He then quickly looked up again. “…When you say Shiva, you mean…”

“Gentiana, yes,” Ifrit finished. “We both took subtle forms in which to approach you.” He bowed his head. Noct was bound to have a thousand questions about all of this, but Ifrit knew there was one in particular that had to be weighing more heavily than the rest at the moment. “Noct, I… I am so sorry about Lunafreya. I don’t_ know_ why Shiva wasn’t there to protect her, and I haven’t…” Ifrit trailed off, his voice barely whisper. “I haven’t heard from her…”

Noct titled his head a bit. “You’re worried about her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Ifrit nodded all the same. “We don’t have relationships in the same sense as you, but… she is my Lunafreya. And I am afraid she’s fallen prey to Ardyn the same as I did.”

“Ardyn?” Noct scowled. “What threat could he possibly pose to you guys?”

Ifrit locked his gaze with Noct’s and held it. “He is far more than he appears, Noct. His power bests ours with ease. He bested _me_ with ease. That is why I’ve worked so hard to keep my true self a secret. Not because of you – because of _him. _Were he to find out my true identity, he could use me again you.”

Noct opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned deeper. “How?”

Ifrit wasn’t entirely certain which part of what he said was what Noct was asking about, but he needed to know the full truth now regardless.

Ifrit craned his neck, making certain the server was still in the back. Then he laid his palms on the tabletop and closed his eyes for a moment. It had been while since he’d been in his natural form, even if this was roughly only a quarter transformation. Just enough for Noct to see his normal coloring and the contrast between it and the ashen color that marred his left side.

“Shit, Iggy,” Noct hissed, and Ignis returned to his normal human self, opening his eyes in time to catch the horrified look still on Noct’s face. “Ardyn did that to you?”

“Yes.” Ifrit looked at his left hand. It might have looked normal, but he could still feel the Scourge underneath. He always could. “He infected me, and can control me. He could force me to harm the rest of you and I wouldn’t be able to do thing to stop him.”

Noct looked faintly ill. “So… how can he be stopped?”

And here it was. The time Ifrit had been dreading the most. 

It wasn’t long after Ifrit began laying out the truth – began laying out the full path of the Chosen – that Noct buried his face in his hands, eyes welling with tears that somehow didn’t spill over. He took it all in silence until the end.

Noct ran a hand over his mouth and sniffed. “So… it’s was always gonna be like this for the three of us?”

Ifrit suddenly felt every bit of his post several millennia old. “I’m afraid so.”

Noct and Lunafreya. They were so young. They’d deserved to live out more of their lives.

But Ifrit was ready for his rest.

Let oblivion take him.

Just so long as Shiva wasn’t brought down with him. Her survival and the fact that he wouldn’t have to watch Noct’s departure from this world were his consolation.


	4. Chapter 4

Once, caring about a human again seemed impossible. Now he cared for more than one, and he was torn on which to protect.

“Iggy…” Noct’s voice was pleading. “Ardyn won’t hurt me. You said it yourself. He needs me. But Prompto…”

“Noct, if he starts popping up places, Ardyn is gonna noticed something is up–”

“I’m going.”

Ifrit stared out the train window at the passing snow. If anything was worse than the swamp…

“You’re sure?” Gladio asked.

Ifrit nodded. “I know exactly where Ardyn is leading him. I’ll see him returned.”

Besithia’s base. Where Ardyn’s true descent into madness had started. Where Ifrit had lost his freedom. Where Shiva had once been felled.

Rather ironic that Ardyn had managed to set this up for Ifrit without meaning to.

“Gralea. We’ll reunite there. Stay safe.”

“…You too,” Noct said quietly.

* * *

Ifrit knew where the base was. He could never forget. Finding Prompto was a bit more difficult, but he still managed it fairly quickly.

It was honestly the worst place Prompto could have been, and the boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Ifrit appeared next to one of the cloning tanks. Ifrit _almost_ got a bullet in the face.

“Igfrit!” Prompto lowered his gun in relief, looking pale and shaken. He glanced from the tank to Ifrit and back with… fear in his eyes.

For goodness sake. “Prompto,” he said flatly. “Do you seriously think I didn’t already know about this?”

Prompto spluttered a laugh. “I guess you would… And you don’t…”

“…Care?” Ifrit finished. “I have far darker things in my own past, Prompto. Come now.”

They didn’t leave, though.

A voice stopped them. Ifrit knew that voice.

Besithia.

His blood boiled.

That irreverent, delusional little bastard. He’d hurt Shiva, greater than any mortal had ever hurt one of them.

It was time for a reckoning. Prompto could get some answers and closure about his origins, and Ifrit could flay the man who’s idea it was to enslave him in the first place.

Or Prompto could shoot him. That worked too.

He almost stepped in to help, but Prompto also deserved this chance, and Ardyn was floating around, so instead he waited until Prompto was yelling at the ceiling to lay a comforting hand on Prompto’s shoulder.

“You’re right. You _are_ a Lucian. Don’t let his words cast doubt upon you.”

And then alarms started blaring and Aranea crashed through the ceiling.

“How the hell did you get here before me?” she demanded of Ifrit.

“Perhaps we can save explanations for another time?” he shot back as he hauled Prompto to his feet and dragged him towards the exit.

It took a bit of badgering and pep talking to whip Prompto back into shape, but Ifrit and Aranea had managed it together. It likely helped that Prompto had just seen Noct accept Ifrit after being lied to by him his entire life. What was one friend being a clone when another was a half daemonified Astral?

And then came the true fight. The full results of Besithia’s chaos research.

The supposed Astral slayer.

He could have whisked all three of them away, but not only was Ardyn likely watching these events unfold, but this machine _couldn’t _be left unchecked.

This madman had directly and indirectly brought two Astrals to their knees in the past. Ifrit wasn’t going to let there be a third.

“There’s only room for two!” Aranea hissed, sitting atop a snowmobile and looking around for another solution.

“Prompto,” Ifrit said calmly, letting his heat chase away the cold that had been bothering him since they’d arrived. “Go.”

“…Dude, are you about to–”

Flames enveloped his human form as he started to grow.

“Oh, yep, you sure are, okay!” Prompto bolted for the snowmobile, jumping into the gunner seat. “We’ll do what we can from our end!”

“What the hell–” Aranea started.

“Just drive!” Prompto yelled.

It had been over fifteen years since Ifrit had been fully in his natural form.

“_An Astral killer, you say?_” Ifrit summoned his blade, not caring that Besithia couldn’t understand him. “_We shall see about that._” 

* * *

Ifrit staggered, attempting walk up to Prompto as he shrank back to his human self.

“Dude…” Prompto said, hopping off the snowmobile. “That was _hard core._”

“I have no idea how process this,” Aranea noted, lounging on the snowmobile and squinting at him.

He considered telling her to keep the information to herself, but it was too late for that to matter. There was no way Ardyn had missed his entire battle with Besithia’s techno-daemon-worm.

“You both need to go.”

Prompto’s expression dropped. “You don’t think Ardyn–”

“Without a doubt.” Ifrit clenched his fists. “Head for Gralea. Now. Go before it’s too late.”

Prompto swallowed. “…Okay.”

It was clear Aranea had questions, but either she read their tones well enough or just didn’t care to ask them, because she complied. She floored the snowmobile away from him.

It wouldn’t be enough if Ardyn truly wanted him to harm them, but Ifrit dearly hoped the Accursed had something else in mind.

He sighed, taking a deep breath of the cold wind that he so hated. Likely one of his last free breaths.

“Well, well, _well,_ now this is surprise!”

Ifrit gritted his teeth, calmly turning to face Ardyn as he strutted up.

Ardyn waved his arm around in the air. “I must admit, I didn’t connect the dots with you at all! I suppose I should have kept you on a… _tighter_ leash, ay?” He make a sudden fist with his hand, and Ifrit fell to his knees with a yell, the cold seeping into his being from the snow below.

“Honestly, I should thank you, though. This will make things _so_ much more interesting.”

* * *

He didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to Noct before the Crystal snatched him away. He didn’t have to fight him either. No, it appeared Ardyn was taking pleasure in having Ifrit follow him around constantly so he could taunt him.

He recaptured Prompto and strung him up. Then he made Ifrit watch via the monitors as he separated Noct from Ravus and Gladio and had them all running around trying to find each other in the maze of madness that was the Keep.

He let them reunite… just to separate Noct from them again, finally letting him and him alone reach the Crystal.

It was only then that Ardyn beckoned Ifrit along, forcing him stand there behind him as he taunted Noct until he was gone.

The only goodbye they got was a split second of eye contact over Ardyn’s shoulder.

_I’m sorry,_ Ifrit mouthed.

* * *

Ten years. Ten years with Ardyn as his only company.

Ifrit no longer wondered why humans drank.

Ardyn sat up on the throne suddenly. “He’s returned.”

Ifrit snapped his head up. Finally.

Ardyn grinned, side eyeing Ifrit. “Well, you best get going if you want to meet up with them.”

Ifrit scowled. “As if you’d let me.”

“Oh, but I _would._”

Ifrit almost fell over as the invisible bindings lifted. “…What are you playing at?”

Ardyn shrugged. “Best go before I change my mind.”

Ifrit started to go. He was more than wary, but Ardyn could just plop him into place and kill them all if he wanted, so if that was his goal, then refusing would gain Ifrit nothing.

“Do you suppose they’d forgive you if they knew the truth behind the Scourge?

Ifrit paused. There is was. This was merely another chance to emotionally wound them.

There was nothing stopping him from keeping the Scoruge’s origins to himself. But he wouldn’t. Noct deserved to know.

And Ardyn wanted to see if it would split them apart. Wanted to see if Noct would feel betrayal like he had.

Ifrit didn’t know. He supposed he was about to find out.

* * *

He found them on the hilltop overlooking Insomnia.

How fitting.

“Are you serious, dude?”

“What? I’ve been saving them for a special occasion!”

“How old are those?”

“Who cares – they’re noodles, not dairy. Don’t tell me _you_ wanna cook. These are gonna be the easiest thing.”

Ifrit smiled fondly, the three of his friends coming into view. Gladio was kneeling on the ground, clearly about to try and get a fire going. Prompto was staring down at him with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look. And Noct… Noct was already sitting in a camp chair, a hand pressed to his mouth as his shoulders shook with laughter.

It was like they’d never been separated. Except… they were so much older. Ifrit had kept his appearance the same, and he now felt dreadfully out of place. He shifted his clothes to match the Crownsguard uniforms that Prompto and Gladio were wearing. It took him a moment to think of how this face of his would look after ten years, though. He decided, and then shifted that and his hair too. Even Prompto had grown out of the overly-tall, spiked hair stage.

Ifrit clicked his fingers, a small fire springing to life before Gladio had the chance to even try and get it going.

“The hell?” Gladio flinched back.

“Gladious,” Ifrit said teasingly, entering the now lit up area. “If you think I’m going to let our last meal together be Cup Noodles, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Iggy!”

It took some assurances and proof to convince them that he wasn’t Ardyn, but they welcomed him back with open arms. Literally. Prompto tackle hugged him. Ifrit couldn’t say he minded.

It was good to catch up. Like Noct, he barely knew any of the events that had come to pass in the last few years.

It was such a relief to finally, _finally_ know for certain that Shiva was all right. Ardyn had enjoyed giving him nothing in that regard. Why Shiva wasn’t in Altissia, they would likely never know, but at this point all he cared about was her safety.

They talked more. They laughed. And then the laughter faded, the reality of what was to come setting in further with each passing minute.

Ifrit had been in his human body with its stupid emotions far, far too long.

“What can I say? You guys… are the best.”

That was the tipping point.

Ifrit pressed his gloved hand to his face, his tears striking the fabric and quickly soaking in.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I did this to you…”

Their attention was suddenly all on him.

“Specs?” Noct asked.

“Aw, dude, come on.” Prompto reached over, clapping his shoulder in a friendly way. “We don’t blame you for stuff Ardyn’s made you do.”

Ifrit shook his head. “I don’t mean…” He looked up at Noct. “This is _my_ fault. All of it._ I_ caused the Scourge.”

“What?” Gladio demanded.

“Say wha?” Prompto cocked his head.

Noct didn’t even blink.

“…You knew?”

Noct nodded softly. “Genti– _Shiva_ told me a while back.”

Ifrit ducked his head again. He couldn’t look at Noct right now. He couldn’t see the man his ward had become, knowing that he’d caused his doom. “I was filled with so much bitterness at humanity. Not even others could make me see reason. Not even Shiva. I hated your kind so much, I never fathomed that I’d regret the actions I took against them. But now… I’d give anything. _I’m so sorry._”

* * *

His apology didn’t matter in the long run. Noct forgiveness didn’t matter in the long run.

Once Noct reached the Citadel, their history didn’t matter.

Ifrit felt that dreaded and familiar yank within himself, and he was forced away from the rest of them, to the center of the plaza.

He looked back to Noct, knowing what he was about to say would likely be the last words he spoke to him.

“Don’t hesitate.”

There were tears in Noct’s eyes again as he summoned his father’s sword.

Ardyn didn’t even have the decency to let him return to his true form for the fight. Probably because he knew it would be harder for Noct to face him as he was.

His flames raged, Noct and Gladio’s swords sang, and Prompto gunshots echoed throughout the night.

Bahumut descended.

Ifrit had never been so glad to see him. Better him to deliver the blow than Noct. But not even Bahumut’s attack was enough to take him down for good.

Magic flasks came into play after that, and Ifrit shuttered, the chill of the ice biting into him.

He was weakening. He hadn’t felt this way since the war.

He knocked Gladio aside, his human limbs shaking in the cold.

Cold. Tired. Afraid.

And oh, he was afraid.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. What would truly become of him? Did it matter, so long as he was freed from Ardyn?

And then he heard her.

Even as Ardyn forced Ifrit to take another swing at Prompto, Ifrit felt the first wisps of peace.

Noct strolled towards him, Shiva at his his side in her human form as her other selves began to circle him.

Cold. So, so cold.

His steps slowed until his legs refused to move any further.

The world was a blurred white with only one thing remaining in focus – her.

Shiva took his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his as she started to shift into her true self.

He couldn’t feel any longer.

“_Rest, my love._”

She, like everything else, faded as he sank into oblivion.

_Gladio… Prompto… Noctis… Shiva… You made everything worth it. _


End file.
